#augusnippets - day 28

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

DAY 28 – Body control

“Don’t worry. Can you believe that the others were for torturing you? No, no. You’d complain, you’d struggle, you’d plan an escape, it wouldn’t do. I am for efficiency. You can resist as much as you want. All the better for me. The more you fight, the more I know how your body works, the more I know how I can tie you up. You can’t see my knots, neither will anyone. So, let me tell you how they’re getting tighter, tighter, tighter. You’re wrapped up from your toes to your hair. Every thing is connected to me. Let me show you. Wave. Bow your head. On your knees. Very good. What a nice puppet you are. We’ll train a little together, and when you’ll waltz in wherever your friends are, wherever your family is, they’ll see no difference.

They’ll all think you did it.”

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[sufrimientilia]

Cavernous Cravings

mind control | body control | betrayal @augusnippets Day 28

cw: vampire attacker (implied), hypnosis, see above

He snapped around so fast it almost gave her whiplash.

”Agh! What— what?” She stumbled back, the beam of her flashlight bobbing from side to side. The cavern ached with the same hollow moans and groans as before. Deep, cold, and lonely. There wasn’t anything down here but them. She peered up at him. “What’s wrong?”

His form stood rigid and tense, eyes cast towards yet another a dead end of odd twists and turns. The pale shadows almost made him look like a ghost. “Did you hear that?”

She pitched her voice low. “Hear what?”

It took him so long to answer that she was almost seeing spots from holding her breath. He gave a curt shake of his head and kept moving. “I… never mind. Come on.”

“Stop messing around,” she whined. She scrambled after him anyways. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not messing around.”

“I can’t believe those assholes left us—”

“It’ll be okay. We’ll find a way out.” He reached another dead end and promptly turned around to backtrack. All casual like. “We’re going to be fine.”

She clutched her flashlight tight. “Yeah, sure… just fine.”

They kept walking until the dead ends were endless. Were they just going deeper and deeper, further and further away from the exit? She was trying not to panic, but the tension of it hung heavy in the air— prickling in goosebumps across her skin, hardening like rock across his. Eventually he just stopped all at once and stood planted in front of her.

“This doesn’t seem like the way we came,” she said, hesitantly thinking aloud. This couldn’t be where he gave up. “Maybe if we turned back and took that left instead of…”

“That… sound…” His voice came quiet, faraway.

“What?”

“You don’t… You don’t hear it?” He swayed in place. “It’s… it’s….”

“Hey, come on,” she said, nervously reaching out to grab him. “You’re scaring me.”

He turned around and faced her. His pupils were blown wide and black in the silvery glow between them. She stumbled back with a gasp, the light bobbing around in a wild strobe when he reached out and grabbed her. Metal clinked to the ground and rolled away, shadows twisting and turning. “Wh-!”

His grip came hard and relentless, yanked her close all at once. She slipped over rock and collided against him with a yelp. For the first time ever, the proximity felt unnatural.

"What are you doing?!" She yanked and fought against him. "You're— you're hurting me! Stop!"

A perfect thrall.

This time she heard it. The ethereal voice permeating through all the walls, rumbling deep within the cavern. Like the singsong of a violin screeching violently in the ear.

So ready to behave...

His dull, empty eyes were blank and thoughtless despite the ironclad grip held tight around her wrists. His expression all slack. She fought and fought. "Let me go!"

This one... not so much...

The air turned sickly, hot and humid. Maybe it was from all her efforts, or maybe that voice was permeating a bit too deeply, invading down to her core, everything suddenly going heavy and warm. She shook her head and cried, staring up at the deep dark voids of his pupils. Wide and empty and encompassing.

Empty, empty, empty...

"What are you doing..." She tugged and tugged. Flashes of red invaded her periphery, encompassing all at once. Then there was just sharp pain, bursts of white, and a hollow descent into darkness.

[whumplump]

Day 28 of @augusnippets

Prompts used: mind control / body control

CW: vampire whump, whumpee turned whumper, whumper turned whumpee, humiliation

Inspired by my favourite book

They never found out what the gentle vampire does. Each one had a characteristic, but the hunters never discovered the vampire with the sweet features and friendly face. Maybe that was his gift: appearing friendly. Although they didn't know what he was capable of, they knew he carried the strongest of powers among his brothers.

"Kneel."

Whumper obeyed without hesitation. Although he didn't want to, his knees flexed on their own, until he was kneeling on the sandy floor.

Whumpee smiled satisfied. "Pathetic. Where's the brave vampire who defeated me just now?"

Whumper moved his lips to speak, but Whumpee interrupted him.

"Don't answer."

He fell silent.

"I want to leave you here, for the sunlight to come and wipe you from existence. But that would be very dull. Now that I have the strongest gift, I'm going to make you wish you had never become a vampire."

[whumper-whimsy]

@augusnippets day 28

Mind control/ body control/ betrayal

Royal setting, betrayal, enslavement

°

Whumpee had been working for an operation that was attempting to overthrow the kingdom's government. The coup was set to storm the castle in two weeks, just enough time to prepare.

However, Whumper, the king, had caught Whumpee snooping in the castle. He was brought back to the throne room for questioning.

He spilled quite easy, promised money and fame in exchange for a few dates and locations.

When the day of the coup came, Whumpee stood firmly in the throne room beside Whumper. He watched as his teammates filed in, their faces going from vengeful to confused as they saw Whumpee.

"Whumpee? What's going on?" One asked, looking concerned. "You're not...?"

Whumper cleared his throat, putting his hands on Whumpee's shoulders. "He has picked his side, and it is with loyalty. He is quite a clever boy, isn't he?" Whumper pushed Whumpee to the ground suddenly, stepping on his back. "He's just a backstabbing little puppy, isn't he?"

Whumpee looked up, confused. "Whumper, my king, why are you—" his mouth was covered by Whumper.

"Shhh. Just be quiet. I'll let your team take care of you."

[the-rad-pineapple]

day 28 of @augusnippets

body control + betrayal

this is the last prompt i've written for this event. i had so much fun participating. i would definitely do something like this again. i huge thank you to @augusnippets for putting all of this together.

Whumpee wakes to the sound of Whumper’s maniacal laughter. 

Whumpee glares. He knows his team will be here to save him at any moment. All he has to do is stall for time. 

“Now let’s see if it worked,” Whumpee says from across the room. “Get up and walk to me.” 

Whumpee is about to open his mouth to retort with something sharp, but he’s cut off when his legs automatically stand. And then begin marching towards Whumper. 

Icy, cold fear hits his veins closely followed by panic. He is not in control. His legs are moving, and he cannot stop them. He can’t even open his mouth to speak. It’s all happening so fast. 

He stops in front of Whumper. 

Whumper laughs again. “You kept reminding me your team will be here soon, so I thought it would be a great opportunity to try out a new procedure I’ve been working on.” He licks his lips, and his grin widens. “You will kill them like you walked up to me just now.” A beat. “I cannot wait to see the results,” he says while giving a nod to a camera in the ceiling corner before spinning around and walking out the door. 

Then Whumpee hears his team come for him. He’s sweating, beads dripping down the sides of his face, but no matter how hard he fights, he cannot regain control of his own body; he’s never been so afraid.

It’s Team Leader that bursts into his room. He visibly relaxes, and that’s when Whumpee strikes.

Whumpee tackles him, throwing them both to the ground. 

Team Leader grunts in surprise. “Whumpee?!” Alarm laces his voice. 

Whumpee’s body doesn’t stop. He scrabbles, so he’s on top of Team Leader, grabbing his weapon off him in the process. Team Leader’s eyes widen in surprise when Whumpee points the weapon at his chest. 

But he’s the team leader for a reason. 

In the span of five seconds, Team Leader has flipped and disarmed Whumpee. He’s always been so fast. His weight is pinning Whumpee to the floor, and he has a forearm pressed into Whumpee’s chest. His eyes are desperately searching Whumpee’s, rapidly flicking from one eye to the other. 

“Whumpee. What’s happened? Why are you doing this?” 

Whumpee’s unable to speak. But he remembers the sizable blade Team Leader keeps in his boot. His hand grabs it against his permission. Quickly, before Team Leader has the chance to realize something is wrong, Whumpee stabs him in the side. He pushes Team Leader down and watches as Team Leader’s eyes go from wide with disbelief and pain to blank and focused. He manages to get Whumpee pinned again, but not before Whumpee knees him in the ribs. 

And there’s blood. A lot. Too much. 

“Y-You betray us? Me??” The disbelief is back in his eyes. But now Whumpee can see grief there, too. “I can’t kill you.” 

Team Leader grabs the discarded blade and hits Whumpee in the head with the handle. 

[pigeonwhumps]

The box

A Death in the Family masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @whumpsday

@oddsconvert @starfields08000 @whump-tr0pes @anonfromcanada @augusnippets

Augusnippets day 28: mind control | body control | betrayal

Barnabas prepares Sunday for use as a midnight snack.

553 words

CWs: claustrophobia, mind control, persuasion, mental restraints, threatened broken bones, vampire whumper, emeto

"Follow me, human."

Sunday fights to hold on, but his foot lifts on its own, puppeted by the vampire striding ahead of him. He can feel his mind slipping from him in these moments, and it scares him – he already drifts, how long until he has no mind left at all?

He wants to protest, but he can't, not since Lord Sharpe ordered him not to speak, because food doesn't need to. He's still allowed to scream though.

When was that, again?

"Stop."

He freezes, and realises he's lost time again. He's in Lord Sharpe's bedroom now, medieval decor being dusted by Eldrida. She presses back against the wall as they enter, trying to make herself invisible even as she curtseys low. Lord Sharpe scowls.

"I didn't ask to see you, girl. Get downstairs. I'll deal with you later."

Eldrida curtseys again, shoots a terrified look at Sunday, and flees. He feels a pang of sympathy. He's seen her injuries, sometimes, when she's in charge of feeding him.

Why's she even working for Lord Sharpe? Can't she leave?

"In there, human."

Sunday isn't entirely sure where he's meant to be going but apparently his body is, as it walks him stiffly across the room and climbs into what appears to be a wooden box with a side door and an old, bare mattress.

No. No no no. He lets out a strangled yell, a plea twisted by his mind and his body until there's no words any longer, just anguished, unintelligible sound.

Please. Please, he can't stay in here, please no, don't make him. There's barely room for him to curl up.

Lord Sharpe grins.

"What's that? You're going to be a good midnight snack for me? Exactly as I thought. You should feel lucky I'm just ordering you to stay put, because breaking your ankle would also provide incentive. But I don't want that level of adrenaline in your blood tonight. You'll stay completely still and silent until I call for you. Because that's what good food does."

He shuts the door.

Sunday is left in the tiny, pitch-dark space. He tries to stretch his toes but finds, to his despair, that he can't. His body is more willing to obey his captor's commands than his own.

He's stuck, in the dark, in a vampire's house, where every creak and the space in between could be his captor coming to drink him, torture him, humiliate him. This space is so small. Is he ever going to leave it? It feels like a coffin.

Can he throw up?

Oh.

He can.

That doesn't count as noise then. Good. At least he's not in a position where he'll choke on it.

He's not sleeping tonight. He counts his breaths. There's nothing in here with him, right?

Oh god.

He can feel the pinch in his vocal chords when he tries to scream. All he can do is cry, body resisting the instinctual shaking of his body to the point that it hurts, tears streaming down his face to join the pool of foul-smelling vomit beneath him.

Hopefully that will please his captor, at least. Maybe there'll be less pain that way.

He can always hope. But he thinks it might be hope to the point of delusion, at this point. There's never less pain.

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 28

mind control/body control/betrayal forced to watch

fandom: @moonlightsmasquerade monsters in mayweather (^ also source for the art) TW: implied torture, overhearing torture, blood, body horror word count: 525 @augusnippets

“Damn it, where the hell did he go!?” Selena hissed through gritted teeth. Aaron, a complete moron, had gone back to the church alone. Sure, the last time he went with Joshua had been a train wreck, but no amount of remorse justified a death wish.

A death wish Selena would make sure wouldn't be fulfilled. But first, Aaron needed to be found. The church's grounds were large, shrouded in overgrowth. If his Shoggoth form acted up at any point in his investigation, he could've slipped away anywhere.

Selena received a horrifying clue when a scream echoed from the church.

She was off like a bullet. Either instincts or intuition drew her to the front doors of the church, the sound growing louder with each step.

“AARON!” Selena pounded against the dusty wood with both fists. “AARON, ARE YOU IN THERE!?”

“N-no, get away!” Aaron's rasping, echoing voice seeped through the door. “Get the FUCK AWAY! Please, don't hurt her!”

“What…?” Selena muttered. A new voice was heard through the door, smoother, but with a familiar echo.

“You know how to make it stop, boy.”

“I-I can't!” Aaron wailed. “SELENA! GET OUT OF HERE!”

“Like hell I'm doing that,” Selena grunted as she tugged at the wrought iron door knockers. The doors flexed, but refused to budge. She almost froze when another, ear-piercing scream was ripped from her friend.

“You know what?” the mysterious monster taunted. “Have it your way. We won't hurt the girl. We don't need to. But we're not letting her leave until I'm done with you.”

Before Selena could comprehend what she was hearing, a demonic, falcon-like screech boomed from behind her. She barely had time to turn around when talons sank into her upper arms, slamming her against the doors.

With her face pressed against decaying wood, she noticed new sounds underpinning Aaron's screams: a sharp snapping, and wet squelching.

No. I'm not playing these fucking games!

Magic crackled at her fingertips, purple light emanating through her gloves. Gloves which prevented her from drawing enough power for her plan.

She was left with the last resort.

If I have to be the Witch, so be it!

A loud crack dwarfed the ruckus. Pain shot up Selena's back as an extra set of arms burst through flesh and skin, throwing the oversized bird into the surrounding trees. The sheer amount of magic gathering in Selena's new arms left her ears ringing.

I'm getting you out of there, Aaron.

The door shattered into mere splinters once the violet fireball made contact. Though adjusting to her Witch eyes was always a struggle, she could process what she was seeing just enough to make her blood boil.

Aaron on the floor between the pews, his left side a melted mess of eyes, shadows, and teeth, while his right was covered in viciously deep lacerations, part of his dahlia tattoo practically flayed off.

A pale man with gray hair and scarlet eyes stood over him, his hands near ten times as large, covered in shadows and teeth, each finger ending in long, thin, blood-soaked claws.

I'm about to show you the fucking meaning of Hell.

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 28 @augusnippets - prompt : Betrayal

The facility is breached

CW: living weapon, character death

Asset 84 masterlist

The facility’s usual eerie silence was abruptly shattered as an alarm blared, its relentless shriek slicing through the silence with brutal intensity. The red emergency lights began to strobe, casting an erratic, pulsing glow across the stark white walls. Automated systems whirred to life, sealing doors and engaging lockdown protocols with a mechanical efficiency that only heightened the sense of impending doom.

Through the facility’s intercom and radios, a composed yet urgent voice cut through the din. “Attention all handlers, initiate Protocol 12 immediately! Ensure that no asset survives this breach. I repeat, no asset is to be left alive. Execute all orders without hesitation!”

From their quarters, Asset 84 could hear the pandemonium unfolding beyond the reinforced walls. The sounds of hurried footsteps, shouted commands, and the clattering of weaponry filled the air. They had heard whispered tales of breaches from other facilities—stories of raiding teams who claimed to be liberators. These intruders were said to strike swiftly, taking assets away to unknown destinations. The rumours were always vague, leaving the specifics shrouded in mystery and fear.

The door slid open with a hiss, Colonel Carter stood in the entrance, her usually calm and detached nature was clearly disrupted, her hands slightly shaking as she adjusted her communicator. This was not a drill or a test; something was deeply wrong.

"84," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly, "follow me."

Asset 84’s heart raced as they absorbed the gravity of Colonel Carter’s uncharacteristically anxious demeanor. For years, they had been conditioned to view Carter as an unwavering figure of authority, someone whose calm was unshakeable. Seeing her flustered and unsure sent a jolt of alarm through 84, heightening their sense of urgency.

"Yes, Colonel," 84 responded, their voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. They moved swiftly, their training kicking in as they followed Carter down the corridor.

"Do you understand what is happening 84?" Carter asked, she voice returning to it's usual cold tone.

Asset 84's eyes remained fixed on Colonel Carter, their senses acutely attuned to every detail amidst the chaos. The flashing red lights and distant sounds of conflict only served to heighten their focus. Despite the fear gnawing at them, 84's resolve remained unshaken, their training pushing them forward.

"No, Colonel," 84 admitted, "But I trust your orders."

Colonel Carter’s expression hardened, her momentary vulnerability now masked by her authoritative demeanour. “This is not a drill. We’re facing a breach of unprecedented scale. These intruders—liberators, as you might have heard—are here to dismantle the facility and free the assets. Protocol 12 is in effect," she paused as she pulled out her side arm.

84s eyes remained fixed on Carter, trying to interpret the sudden shift in her demeanour. The uncharacteristic tremor in her voice, the way her hands shook as she gripped her weapon tightly - all of it was unsettling.

Without warning, Carter spun on her heel, her gun aimed directly at 84. The shock of her movement struck 84 like a physical blow. They froze, their mind racing to process the sudden shift in their once-unquestioned trust.

“Colonel?” 84's voice was a mixture of confusion and betrayal, their training struggling to reconcile this new reality.

Carter’s green eyes were cold, her voice unwavering and final, “I’m sorry... Alex."

Asset 84 locked eyes with their handler, their steely grey eyes meeting her unfeeling green. A torrent of images crashed through 84’s mind: relentless training sessions, harsh punishments, the stark tattoo on their neck, the branding seared into their flesh, and the lifeless body of Asset 83. Each memory was a fragment of their indoctrination, now twisted into a grim tapestry of betrayal.

For a split second, time seemed to come to a standstill. The harsh, strobing red lights of the facility created a surreal, almost frozen moment of clarity. 84, no... Alex... driven by a deep, primal rage, moved with a sudden, fierce determination. This was not just an act of self-defence but a breaking point—a culmination of years of manipulation, pain, and relentless conditioning. The very foundation of their existence, built on unwavering obedience and endurance, was shattered in this single, explosive moment.

The alarm continued its relentless wail, the emergency lights still flashing as 84 stood over the fallen figure of their former handler. Her green eyes, once a sight of unwavering authority, stood wide and lifeless, staring unseeing at 84.

[scratchandplaster]

Dead of Night

CW: minor whump (Ben is 12), intimidation

Midnight | [Masterlist]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"What's going on?"

From the end of the hallway, Ben recognized the shadow that crept around the house. Shepard slowly turned, and glared silently in his direction. He's probably busy, Ben's tired head thought; blinded by the harsh light coming from the kitchen.

The man looked stressed, his sleeves stained by rough patches - maybe he wanted to get the camper fixed up? As Ben's eyes adapted to the gloom, he realized his mistake.

Shepard wasn't busy. Shepard was angry; so angry that Ben stumbled back into his room.

Am I annoying you again? He had tried so hard not to stress Shepard out the last weeks, especially after being told so.

The man took one step towards him, fists clenched and released with every heavy breath.

"Did I do something wrong?" the boy chirped carefully. 

But Shepard just stared, the hollow glint inside amber eyes making him flinch. After seconds of frightening quiet, he answered with nothing more than a growl, barely holding himself together:

"Go back to bed."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Prompt: mind control/body control/betrayal

@augusnippets @whumpyourdamnpears

[deviant-doughnut]

Augusnippets: Day Twenty-Eight

Chosen Prompt: Stalked

Isaac feels the air change. A morning run interrupted by unease, by a chill at the small of their back. It digs in, claws like ice that drag slowly up the length of his spine; a tingling between the narrow set of their shoulders. He stops at the corner, no cars at this hour, but the early morning sharp and eerie and busy with something else. It’s familiar in a quiet, unsettling way, like glancing across a crowded room to find a stranger looking back at you. Only this time, he rakes his gaze through the line of trees, and cannot see the person who’s watching.

Heart pounding harder with fear than exertion, he continues the run. The feeling doesn’t shift, doesn’t dissipate. The ungodly hour shifts into soft early morning, the first of the commuters driving past him. The air does not shift back into place, the eyes upon them do not waiver.

He runs until he’s late for his shower, then their breakfast, and then their commute. He runs until their lungs ache, until their eyes have welled and dried and welled once more. The feeling only grips him tighter — in his mind and in his heart. It changes the touch of the air to his skin. It lengthens his route but leaves him much to exposed. He glances over his shoulder too much and feels the moment his balance slips from under him. He slips on the mud and lands hard on the concrete. A terrible crack through their bare left knee, an ache that blooms and blisters through cartilage. He yells briefly, then groans on the concrete. The hands that reach for him are that of perfect strangers. His breath catches badly, his heart lurching upwards, close enough to his throat he could choke on it.

He hurries to his feet, ignores the visceral crack of his kneecap, ignores the pain as it screams through them.

He hurries from the strangers as best they can, knowing they have to go home now, knowing he needs to escape.

So he does. They walk home through the air that feels thin, feels inhabited by a presence he just cannot name, but that tangles at the back of his throat like smoke.

He limps home, gasping badly with every second step, and knows the awful truth as plainly as he knows there is nothing at all they can do about it.

He goes home — and they lead their stalker right after them.

-

Thanks to @augusnippets for this event!

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Bid

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Slightly experimental (for me), but I like how I approached this c: For @augusnippets Day 28: Mind Control/Body Control

Contains: Mind control, intimate whump, gilded cage, mental link, implied fade to black sexual assault

~~~

Elze’ith was in front of the study.

He had not intended to come to the study.

He should leave. He didn’t want to be here.

…

Elze’ith opened the door to the study.

Lord Denholm was on the couch. A smile spread across his face as Elze’ith stepped inside.

Elze’ith didn’t feel happy. He smiled anyway.

“My light! Come. Join me.”

His feet carried him across the room to take his place next to Lord Denholm.

He was too close. Close enough to feel Lord Denholm next to him.

He could not move away.

...

Did he want to move away?

Lord Denholm put a hand on his thigh. The touch made him shiver.

He did not move away.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my light.”

Lord Denholm leaned in.

Elze’ith closed his eyes.

He did not move away.

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

@augusnippets day 28: betrayal

tw: emotional abuse, panic attack

If you think it should’ve been Rex, then you’re not the man I thought you were.

General Kenobi’s voice echoes through Rex’s mind over and over again as he stalks through streets lined with buildings and haphazardly pitched tents, restless. Kix had asked if he wanted to stay, to watch over the general’s procedure, and Rex had been tempted, but–

But, the longer he tries to stand still, the worse the guilt gnaws at his insides, so in a fit of self-preservation, he abandoned General Kenobi to the prodding of the medics. Just as he’d abandoned him to the droids in the Palace.

Sure, it wasn’t really abandonment, because he was doing his duty escorting the senator to safety, but still. General Skywalker had been right to blame Rex; if he’d tried harder, stuck closer to the Palace, left the cave earlier to look for traces of the generals, General Kenobi wouldn’t’ve been injured.

Sighing, Rex slumps into the shadow of an alleyway, rubs a hand over his face. It’s Rex’s fault General Kenobi almost died, and yet the general had defended him without hesitation, had criticized his own former padawan, as if General Skywalker’s assessment wasn’t valid. As if Rex was more than just an expendable soldier, was someone who mattered to him.

Shaking his head, Rex tries to dislodge the thought. That’s only wishful thinking, after all. General Kenobi was simply acting like his usual noble self, nothing more.

The sound of voices, pitched low in a way that suggests secrecy, catches Rex’s attention. Frowning, he sidles up to the side of a tent, peeling the fabric back ever so slightly.

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t feel right,” Fives is whispering.

“I guess General Skywalker was a bit harsher than usual,” Jesse concedes. “But he and General Kenobi are close. I’m sure he was just worried; he wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Fives grinds his teeth together, his well-known expression of passionate defiance settling into place. “If he was worried, then why did he postpone the search? There was nothing stopping us from setting out on the gunships the second the Seps fled the Palace. You’re telling me General Skywalker is justified in blaming Rex for General Kenobi’s injuries when he was the one who willingly left them stranded in a blizzard overnight?”

Rex feels like the floor has dropped out from beneath him. His brothers’ whispered conversation continues, but the buzzing in his ears drowns them out as he takes a staggering step back. His legs are shaking so badly he can barely hold himself up; bile churns in his stomach, and he can’t breathe.

General Skywalker left them on purpose. Maybe he didn’t think they needed help so desperately, maybe he just didn’t care; it doesn’t matter. General Skywalker took too long, and General Kenobi is suffering because of his choice to wait.

White-hot anger burns, but it’s not for himself. General Skywalker can blame Rex all he wants, can berate him and abuse him and treat him like he’s worthless; Rex’ll take every hit impassively, gladly, even. But General Skywalker betrayed General Kenobi when he left him to suffer in that cave and then lied to his face, and that is something Rex absolutely will not stand for.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 28

Path of Hurt Prompt; "Mind Control/Body Control" + "Betrayal" Part 1

Day 28 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV: Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Whumpee: Gawain - The Green Knight

- Whumper: OC "Sorceress"/"Mistress"

(Characters; Whumpees)

(Characters; Whumpers)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 434

TWs; unconsentual mind control/hypnosis, intimate whumper, living weapon whumpee

Continuation of Day 1, Day 16 and Day 25.

Lancelot stared down into the fearful emerald eyes of his captive as he dragged him along by the chain at his wrists. A Knight dressed in green, though a poor Knight at that, he thought, for the man had refused to fight. It had been all too easy to bring him down.

"Lancelot, please..." The man begged, voice cracked and worn for the previous fifty times he'd tried to appeal to Lancelot to no avail.

"You don't know what you're doing... please, Lance, I--"

The man's words cut off with a choked cry as Lancelot backhanded him, hard, across the face. The slightest sting of pain in his hand was easily ignored, so too was the distraught expression the man gave him now as trembling fingertips tentatively rose to a now split lip.

"My my, sweet thing. You've done well..."

At the sound of his mistress's voice, Lancelot straightened his back, yanking the chain forwards to clasp his hands before him, staring blankly straight ahead at the stone wall as he knew she expected. The Knight swore bitterly as he fell forwards at her feet.

She was silent for a moment as she appraised her newest aquisition. Lancelot felt the chain move, but he remained as he was, stoic, silent.

"Who are you? What in the Hells have you done to him?!" The sheer anger in the Knight's voice was new, but his Mistress only laughed, standing just at the edge of Lancelot's vision. She was wearing a gown of purple today, he noticed.

"It's almost a pity I don't need him."

Lancelot allowed himself to look at her then, suprised. An intricate silver necklace of purple gemstones clasped in entwined vines draped over her exposed collarbones. Why have him bring this Knight in alive, if she didn't need him? A lock of raven hair curled behind her ear, colliding softly with the silvered earrings of matching leaves that swayed as she moved.

No, he told himself. Mistress's motives were her own, he was not to question them. He could see her heartbeat, strong and steady, throbbing in her delicate neck. He let his face fall blank once more, looked away, waited for his order.

"Kill him," Mistress drew close to Lancelot now, fluttering her eyelashes as she spoke. Her crimson painted lips brushed against the markings on his face, feathering along his jaw.

"For me..." She whispered against his ear, biting at it gently. He could feel the lines of her body as she pressed herself against him.

Lancelot obediently drew his sword and turned, raised his arm to swing.

Anything for her...

Alas, poor Lancelot, he knows not what he does... Will Gawain survive with Lancelot under the Sorceress's spell?

Continued on Day 31

I have officially completed the Path of Hurt of the Augusnippets Prompts!!!

Tomorrow I shall finish the Path of Comfort, and the day after will be the Path of Whumperless Whump... but I also intend to do the spare day 31, and it will be none other than the direct continuation of todays snippet!

Let me know what you thought! Again; final part of this snippet series coming on Day 31! Thanks for reading, onto the next :)

[inscrutable-shadow]

Augusnippets Day 28 - Path of Hurt - Mind Control

Her name was Nicolette.

That didn't matter, but it was the truth. She was twenty-six, fresh out of a bad relationship and looking to put herself back out there. It was normal to go to the bar alone, she'd told herself. Part of being single was going places alone, and she was an adult and she could do it, and it wouldn't be awkward in the least.

His name was Phineas.

At least, that was what he had told her, but it fit him poorly, like a hand-me-down jacket. His smile was pleasant and his voice was smooth, and he engaged her in conversation so readily and easily she almost didn't know what was happening. He was funny and charming and so much nicer than Jason, the man she'd just been dumped by. He asked if he could take her home. Isn't he nice? Isn't he handsome? I bet he could fuck you right. You haven't been touched in weeks. She said yes.

The sex was incredible.

No one could say otherwise, Nicolette experienced flavors of pleasure Jason could never have given her, from hands and a tongue that seemed to have thousands of years of experience from the way they effortlessly tamed the tides of her arousal. She came twice. She'd never come twice for a man before. Couldn't you just lay here forever? This is the safest place you've ever been… She hoped this wouldn't be just a one night stand.

Hold still. Let him kiss you. You're safe, you're safe, you're safe…

When she came back to herself, she was in the lobby of the local urgent care. Her body smelled like cedar and jasmine, his cologne, and in her hands she clutched a note, "To Nicolette, dazzling beauty, from Phineas. Tonight was amazing. Take care." Signed with a flourish and a heart. The doctors said she'd lost over a liter of blood.

Somehow, she didn't mind.

[udaberriwrites]

Another drabble for @augusnippets' day 28!

Path of Hurt - Mind control

Fandom: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Characters: Kim Dokja, 186(3)rd Yoo Jonghyuk

Timeline: 95th scenario - Alternate worldline

Rating: T

“Think only of happy memories.”

Yoo Jonghyuk goes through the motions of living, letting the voice direct him as it pleases. After 1863 regressions, it’s a relief to yield.

Something’s changing, though. The new story settles in the gaps of his fractured psyche.

Shin Yoosung looks up and smiles.

Lee Hyunsung claps someone's shoulder.

Like a field of sunflowers, the party turns to the man in the white coat.

His eyes clear.

“I understand now.”

He twists Unbroken Faith out of the man’s hands, stomps on the flowers and traps him between his arms.

“Let's make new memories together, Dokja-ya."

_

Full prompt list here

AO3 collection here

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 29: Singing

cw: aftermath of/referenced torture and captivity

previous

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 665

=~=~=

Benji hummed quietly from the spare bed, an open paperback on his knee, words neglected and unread. It felt weird to watch Sahota sleep, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Every little shift, every change in breathing spiked his nerves. He was healing now, filling in, looking almost healthy, but he still wore the remnants of his weeks in the cell.

They'd almost been too late. Benji couldn't shake that. He'd still been recovering when Joy and Jer finally found Sahota, bedbound for almost a week after his own horrible ordeal, but it all felt so small when they'd carried him in.

He'd been almost skeletal, bruised up and unconscious, his torso wrapped in a hasty bandage that was oozing blood from everywhere. Benji didn't need to be in the medbay anymore by the time they got to him, but he'd moved back in anyway. Couldn't leave him alone for a second, couldn't let him wake up to being alone, because that had sure fucked him up the first few nights, and—

Sahota coughed in his sleep, and a zap went through Benji's nerves at the sound. His eyes went to the man's face, scanning for anything wrong, seeing nothing but an expression that looked almost peaceful.

Okay. Good.

He continued humming, a little louder now in an effort to calm his nerves. 

The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly…

Yeesh. Maybe a little on the nose.

Good morning Baaaltimore, every day's like an ooopen door—

“Y’singing?”

Benji nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't realized Sahota was awake. Had he woken with the cough? Or before it? Had Benji woken him up?

“Uh. Humming,” he answered. “So kind of?”

“Mm.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Benji found himself holding way too still. He was a little irritated that he couldn't tell if it was residual jitters from his stint in the cell or just regular awkwardness.

Sahota was the one to break the silence.

“You don't have to stop.”

“Yeah?” It was all he could think to say in the moment.

“Better than silence.”

Yeah. He got that much. Humming and singing under his breath had been the only way he could comfort himself, especially once they started leaving the bag on. His captors didn't like it, but it was the one thing he kept coming back to, even after they'd hit him for it a few times. Silence was a killer.

“Any requests?” he said lightly. 

“Anything you want,” Sahota responded, shifting against his pillows. 

“Hope you like showtunes.”

The other man let out a quiet chuckle, and Benji smiled at the sound. “Sure. You know the Flintstones theme?”

He had to keep himself from busting out laughing. The man was bedbound, he had to cut him some slack here. “That's not what I mean by showtunes,” he said. “I'm thinking more along the lines of Broadway musicals.”

Sahota's eyebrows went up slightly, though his eyes remained closed. “I liked The Lion King. Does that count?”

“The musical?”

“No, the cartoon. Is there a musical?”

This time, Benji did laugh. “Oh, you have a lot to learn.”

“Are you planning on teaching me?”

“I can go on for hours if that's what you want.”

“Beats listening to my own heartbeat.”

“Then don't say I didn't warn you.” Fuck, he wanted to launch into something fun, perform a one-man Wicked, find a way to bring the life back into Sahota---and introduce a hardcore spy man to Broadway, to boot.

But they were both exhausted, and killing silence didn't mean getting loud, not right away.

“Let me take you back to the musical that started it all,” he said. “For me, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

A chuckle. “Cross my heart.”

Benji took a breath. It had been ages since he'd sang for an audience, even an audience of one. But right now, this felt like something they both needed.

“Memory, turn your face to the moonlight. Let your memory lead you, open up, enter in…”